


Second Chance

by ravenclawkohai



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-06-03 20:32:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6625171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenclawkohai/pseuds/ravenclawkohai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenova escapes Sephiroth’s body just before Cloud can land the killing blow, reuniting Cloud and Sephiroth, as he used to be. Unfortunately, she finds a new target: Cloud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Cloud?”  
At the last second, Cloud pulled his sword, stopping it short. Sephiroth was bleeding from the other hits of the Omnislash, but Cloud held back the final, killing blow, the Buster Sword hovering an inch from Sephiroth’s neck. It wasn’t the call of his name that stopped him. It was the tone. Sephiroth, for the first time outside those hazy, blurred memories of his Shinra days, sounded confused. Honestly bewildered, even surprised. Sephiroth had landed sprawled on his back and as Cloud stared in his hesitance, something remarkable happened.  
The blank, slavish look that had haunted Sephiroth’s eyes ever since the burning of Nibelheim faded away, replaced by the old sharpness, trained by war and years of handling Shinra and all its levels of hell.  
“Cadet Strife?”  
“Don’t call me that,” Cloud blurted, an old, too familiar call and response. Cloud drew back a step on autopilot. Before he fully realized what he was doing, Cloud pulled the sword from Sephiroth’s neck and into the holster on his back. It wasn’t until he extended a hand to the other man that his mind caught up with his actions. Though his first instinct was to yank his hand away, he held it firm.  
“Jenova left you, didn’t she?”  
“Jenova? Mother,” Sephiroth breathed, his eyes slipping shut. His brow furrowed, but when he looked up, there was clarity in his eyes, mixed with hurt. “Yes. She’s gone.”   
“Then we’re in a bit of an awkward position, aren’t we?” Cloud said, dropping his hand and dropping to sit across from Sephiroth.  
“Where are we?” Sephiroth asked, glancing around into the blackness that surrounded them.  
“No clue. You’re the one that pulled us here,” Cloud countered, resting his elbows on his knees.  
“I did?” Sephiroth asked, voice quiet wonder as he inspected their surroundings.  
“Yup,” was all Cloud offered as he watched Sephiroth’s movements, his expressions.   
Jenova really seemed to be gone.  
“What do you remember?” Cloud asked, drawing Sephiroth’s focus back to himself. The man tilted his head in curiosity, silver hair spilling to the side.  
“Bits and pieces. It’s all hazy, like something from a distant dream,” Sephiroth answered, closing his eyes to concentrate. He opened them slowly, locking eyes with Cloud as he did. “The last thing that is clear is us in bed the morning before leaving for Nibelheim.”  
Cloud flushed. That wasn’t what he had been expecting, not at all. The corners of Sephiroth’s mouth curled up.  
“Kissing you, mostly,” Sephiroth said, voice low, and Cloud was sure it was just to get his face to flush darker. He remembered that morning too, the slow, languid kisses, being held and reassured that everything would be alright, Nibelheim be damned. Being kissed into confidence.   
Cloud cleared his throat.  
“And then, just pieces. A feeling of belonging, a terrible love, your home burning. Running you through. Running from you. You bringing me a black materia with a terrible, slavish look of love in your eyes,” Sephiroth uttered, the smile falling from his lips. “Then waking up, sprawled on the floor, feeling breathless with loss, like my heart was torn from my chest.”  
“So, what? You were,” Cloud paused, fumbling for words. “Possessed?”  
Sephiroth hummed in dissatisfaction. “I suppose. I can’t be sure. It all feels like an old dream, one that you’ve forgotten half the details of.”  
Cloud rubbed his brow. “The others won’t believe that.”  
“Others? Zack?” Sephiroth asked, glancing at the Buster Sword in confusion.  
Cloud blanched.  
“Zack’s dead,” he said, voice quiet.  
Sephiroth looked sick.  
“I see,” was all he had to offer.  
“The others are the ones I’ve been travelling with, trying to stop you from destroying the world. A childhood friend, a member of AVALANCHE, one of Hojo’s test subjects, a few old Shinra employees, a ninja from Wutai.”  
“Quite the company,” Sephiroth offered, still paler than usual.   
“They don’t know you like I do,” Cloud uttered, look softening. “All they know is what is in that blur of yours. They hate you.”  
“And you, Cloud?” Sephiroth asked, voice turning soft. “Do you hate me? I cost you your home. Zack. A girl in pink, if I remember right.”  
“I wanted to,” Cloud admitted. “Gods, how I wanted to. I couldn’t—I can’t. Especially now that I’m sure it wasn’t you, not really. The trouble will be convincing everyone else of that.”  
“And if they can’t be convinced? Am I let free to roam? Would you come with me?”  
“Oh,” Cloud breathed. A small smile touched his face. “You know the answer to that.”  
The look on each of their faces softened. Sephiroth was back. His Sephiroth was back. He wouldn’t lose him again.  
“Well, we ought to get to it then, shouldn’t we?” Sephiroth said, rising to his feet. He extended his hand to Cloud, who sighed.  
“Let’s get this over with.”  
Cloud took his hand. He may not have let it go until AVALANCHE was in sight.

Tifa had him by the chin and was staring intently into his eyes.  
“He used to look off whenever it happened, right?”  
“Beats the hell out of me, we were a little busy to notice if he might have looked off. Besides, he was always off. He collapsed holding his head half the time, it’s not like we had a normal benchmark here. No offense, Cloud.”  
“None taken.”  
“But like he definitely looked off. He doesn’t really look off right now.”  
“Come on, he fooled us the whole time, it’s not like it was obvious. This has to be another trick.”  
“Maybe Sephiroth will look less off if it’s true? Let’s see.”  
“He’s ghost white and always had those damn Jenova eyes. How the hell are we supposed to know?”  
“Well Cloud would know, right? He used to know him, before everything happened.”  
“But we can’t be sure we can trust Cloud.”  
“Do they always talk about you like you’re not there?” Sephiroth asked Cloud in a whisper, a frown tracing his lips.  
“Well we just have to figure out if we can or not, then we can find out if Sephiroth’s okay or not.”  
“It’s not the first time,” Cloud sighed, watching the debate with his arms crossed.  
“But I don’t think Sephiroth can do what he did before, Cloud’s been able to stand up to him and hasn’t helped him in a while now.”  
“So that makes it safe?”  
“How about,” Cloud interrupted, “you give us a probationary period. If we behave and keep behaving for a while, then you know you can trust us. Sound okay?”  
“What if you just fake it through?” Yuffie called.  
“Then extend it until you’re sure. As a measure of good faith, we’ll both give over our weapons until you’re sure.”  
“We’ll what?” Sephiroth bit, eyes cutting to Cloud.  
“Work with me here,” Cloud muttered back.  
“I’m not giving over Masamune.”  
“You are,” Cloud whispered, turning to face him. “Besides, we’re both so enhanced, we can get them back the hard way if push comes to shove. Deal?”  
Sephiroth held his eyes and scowled. The moment drew out until Sephiroth huffed in impatience and removed Masamune and its sheath from his side, handing it out to Tifa.  
“Shit, how do you fight with something this heavy?” Tifa grumbled.  
“You should feel how heavy this thing is,” Yuffie huffed as Cloud handed over the Buster Sword.  
The swordsmen shrugged in synch. 

“No, you two are not sharing a tent,” Tifa shot.  
“Oh?” Sephiroth answered, polite expression turning haughty.  
“Teef,” Cloud started, elbowing Sephiroth. “We’ve been good. We gave over our swords. We didn’t even protest the cross examination. He’s even kept the bitchiness to a minimum, and trust me, he can get pretty bitchy when he wants to be.” Sephiroth coughed pointedly. Cloud ignored it. “We really haven’t asked for a lot, we know how hard it is for you guys and that you’re really struggling to trust us. We’re not going to be plotting together through the night and make an elaborate escape attempt before morning. I promise. Just let us have this?”  
Tifa looked like she was wavering.  
“C’mon, even I can see they just want a honeymoon period,” Yuffie said, rolling her eyes as she walked passed. “Let ‘em have it. But if I hear any moaning in the night, I’m lighting your tent on fire.”  
“Fair enough,” Cloud said, smile turning up the corners of his lips. “Tifa?” he asked, looking back to the woman who had taken command of their band for approval.  
Though she hesitated, she waved her hand dismissively and said, “Fine, fine. But I’m helping Yuffie with the fire if you two don’t behave.”  
“Yes ma’am,” Cloud said demurely before taking Sephiroth’s hand and dragging him off toward the outskirts of their camp. There, he opened his pack and tossed Sephiroth a package before dropping to sit on the ground.  
Sephiroth turned the package over in his hands before raising an unamused eyebrow at Cloud.  
“I take it I’m pitching our tent myself?”  
“Just trying to give you a chance to show everyone else you’re just a normal guy. Who’s gonna pitch the tent by himself to prove it.”  
Sephiroth side eyed Cloud before setting to work. Remarkably, he pitched the tent quickly, with ease and without further complaint. When Sephiroth noticed the surprised look on Cloud’s face, he said, “There was no one to coddle me in the Wutai War. Even I had to pitch my own tent.”  
Cloud hummed and propped his elbows on his knees.  
“No special treatment for the General?”  
“Please, Cloud, you know I hate that title.”  
“The question stands.”  
“No,” Sephiroth said. “I needed their respect, not to be catered to. Special treatment fosters resentment.”  
“No wonder you’re pitching this thing quicker than I ever have.”  
“Years of practice,” Sephiroth said, finishing the job. He turned and held his hand out to Cloud, who took it and rose to his feet. Though it was still early, only just after they had finished dinner, the two ducked into the tent. Without asking one another, they spread their bedrolls side by side. They laid out on them, close enough to feel each other’s body heat but without touching.  
“Cloud,” Sephiroth whispered, tucking a lock of the blonde’s hair behind his ear. “I owe you an apology. The largest apology I will ever give.”  
“You don’t know the half of it,” Cloud said, voice low, refusing to meet Sephiroth’s eye.  
“I know more now. I will never be able to make up for the hell I put you through,” Sephiroth said, stroking Cloud’s cheek lightly.  
“Tifa got a hold of you, didn’t she?” Cloud said, leaning into the touch without thinking. “She’s never going to forgive you.”  
“And you, Cloud?” Sephiroth muttered. “Will you forgive me?”  
Cloud sighed, flicking his gaze up to see Sephiroth staring into his eyes. He turned his eyes down again.   
“You know the answer to that,” Cloud grumbled, shifting on his bedroll. Sephiroth’s fingers trailed down his jaw to Cloud’s chin, tilting it up, forcing eye contact.  
“I don’t deserve it,” Sephiroth said.  
“Doesn’t matter,” Cloud countered, shaking his head slightly. “You have it.”  
Sephiroth frowned, stroking his thumb over Cloud’s cheek, causing the smallest of shivers.  
“You still don’t value yourself enough,” Sephiroth reprimanded lightly. “If you did, you wouldn’t forgive so easily. Not for the wrongs I’ve committed.”  
“Or maybe I just value you,” Cloud countered again, shifting closer, leaning into his touch.  
“If that’s the case, then you do so too much, and still don’t value yourself enough in comparison,” Sephiroth muttered, eyes turning soft as they roamed over Cloud’s face.  
“Do you want me to hate you? Is that it?”  
“It would be a just punishment for what I’ve done,” Sephiroth said. “I almost destroyed the world, I deserve to lose the one who is my world.”  
“Don’t talk like that, not to me. Not when that would cost me my own world for the second time over,” Cloud bit, before his voice and gaze softened. He reached out to trail his fingers over Sephiroth’s cheek, who closed his eyes to savor the touch. “I’ve already lost you once. I won’t lose you again.”  
“I guess the idea was rather selfish of me,” he mumbled.  
“You’re damn right it was,” Cloud said, tone lighter than his words.   
Without stopping to think about it, Cloud scooted closer, burying his face in Sephiroth’s chest, entwining their legs. Sephiroth’s arms immediately rose to hold him.  
“I lost you,” Cloud whispered. “You were gone. You were worse than gone—she made you into a mockery of yourself. I had to try to kill you. I almost did kill you. You were gone and there was no way to bring you back.”  
“Shhh,” Sephiroth shushed, rubbing gentle circles into Cloud’s back. “I’m here now. I’m here and I’m never leaving again. I swear it.”  
“What if she comes back? What if you can’t help it?” Cloud uttered. “I can’t do it all over again. Not a second time.”  
“It won’t. She’s gone, Cloud. It’ll all be okay now.”  
Cloud’s breath shook. It continued to for longer than he cared to admit. But eventually his breath evened and, quicker and more easily since this had all begun, Cloud fell asleep. Sephiroth held him, watching the man he loved breathe, and swore to himself that he would die before he allowed Jenova to take hold of him a second time.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, now what?” Yuffie asked, stirring her spoon through the oatmeal that was AVALANCHE’s breakfast that morning.  
“What do you mean, now what?” Cloud asked as he emerged from his tent, Sephiroth following at his heels.   
“I mean, the meteor’s stopped, and assuming you two aren’t lying, Jenova’s gone. So now what?” Yuffie asked, looking from Cloud around the campfire at the others.  
Silence.  
“I guess… I guess we don’t have a mission anymore,” Tifa said, scowling into her bowl.  
“So, what? We all split up? Go our separate ways?” Yuffie asked, her face twisting into a pout.  
“I mean, we don’t have anything else to do, do we?” Tifa asked. “The world’s… saved. We did what we set out to do—for the most part,” she said, looking pointedly at Sephiroth, who ignored her in favor of thanking Cloud for passing him a full bowl. She did, however, catch Cloud’s scowl in response to her look at Sephiroth. She ducked her head and took a bite to avoid making eye contact.  
“We can all stay together as we head home,” Cloud said, taking a seat next to Sephiroth on a log, their leg’s nearly close enough to touch. The others quietly avoided pointing out their nearness. “Everyone can decide where they want to go and we’ll drop them off as we go. I just think we ought to make sure everyone keeps their PHS—just in case. Never know when the world’ll need saving again.”  
“Besides, we have to keep an eye on you two for a while yet,” Cid said as he set aside his empty dish.  
Cloud sighed. “That too.”

As they spoke, everyone decided where they would go. Tifa decided to go to the ruins of Midgar and help with the rebuilding effort—sooner or later, there would be a new city, and a new chance for Seventh Heaven. Reeve decided to join her, in hopes of leading the effort to start new and prevent Rufus Shinra and his ilk from taking control again. Those who had a home decided to return to it: Barret to Corel, Cid to Rocket Town, Yuffie to Wutai, Nanaki to Cosmo Canyon. Vincent, Cloud, and Sephiroth were left, each without a home to return to. Vincent decided to return to Lucrecia’s cave; he would decide his path from there. Sephiroth’s only home had been Midgar, and yet, they were all certain that returning to the area was a bad idea: if there was anyone left who recognized him for what he had done, they would be in Midgar. He and Cloud settled on the only reasonable option left, despite their hesitation. Bad memories be damned, there was really nowhere left besides Nibelheim.   
Still, their travels were slow. No one was really ready to try to return to their lives as if nothing had happened. Few people left knew the truth of the danger the Planet had been in, and trying to return to civilian life after the last year? It didn’t sit quite right with any of them. So, under the guise of “keeping an eye on Cloud and Sephiroth,” the group made a point of travelling slow. Still, as time passed, it became clear that they had been telling the truth. In bits and pieces, Cloud and Sephiroth were allowed time to themselves outside of sleeping. It started with them being allowed to hunt, with the excuse that they were so “super powered,” as Yuffie had put it, that they might as well put all that muscle to good use.  
“Do you think this is going to be how it is?” Sephiroth asked as they picked their way through the forest.  
“How do you mean?” Cloud asked, carefully keeping his footsteps quiet as he looked around for any wildlife in sight.  
“Them foisting off duties they don’t like onto us under the excuse of finally ‘trusting us?’” Sephiroth asked, trailing behind Cloud. Cloud snorted.  
“Probably. I used to do all of our hunting anyway—I had more practice, between growing up in Nibelheim and field training. This one at least they were just giving back to me while giving us at least some time alone.”  
“Then why don’t we draw this out?” Sephiroth asked, coming up alongside Cloud, his hand resting low on Cloud’s back. Cloud’s steps slowed.  
“You were waiting for an opportunity away from the group, weren’t you?”  
“I was,” Sephiroth said. He sounded smug.   
Cloud clicked his tongue. “Then you should have tried to do more than kiss my forehead at ni—Seph!” Cloud blushed and swatted Sephiroth’s hand, which had started to stray lower. The taller man laughed, the sound a low rumble in his chest.  
“I thought you might not appreciate being rushed and quiet,” Sephiroth said, turning Cloud to face him by the shoulders. Slowly, he walked forward, Cloud matching his steps backward. “As I remember, you were always terrible at the quiet part anyway.”  
“Sephiroth,” Cloud huffed as his back hit a tree.   
“Cloud,” Sephiroth countered, taking a hold of his chin. He raised it, leaning down to kiss Cloud breathless, the way he had wanted to since that first night in their tent.  
When Cloud said his name next, it was significantly breathier—not to mention needier.

“What took you two so long?” Cid called as Cloud and Sephiroth returned to camp, a deer over Sephiroth’s shoulder.  
“C’mon, old man—do you really need to ask?” Yuffie said from her spot on the ground by the fire.  
Cloud blushed and coughed. Sephiroth looked terribly smug.  
“Oh, godsdammit, I didn’t need to know!” Cid said, stomping away toward his tent.  
“You’re the one that asked!” Yuffie called, a laugh in her voice, before turning to the couple, her chin propped in her hand. “So—how was it? Don’t spare the details.”  
Cloud flushed darker.  
“Well—” Sephiroth started.  
“No!” Cloud blurted, covering Sephiroth’s mouth with his hand. “No, absolutely not, we are not doing this.” Cloud glared at Sephiroth until the other man sighed and nodded his head. Cloud let him go with a sigh of relief, taking the deer from Sephiroth, and going to being prep for butchering it.   
Behind his back, Sephiroth mouthed, “Ask me later.”  
Yuffie blinked in surprise before dissolving into laughter.


	3. Chapter 3

               Sephiroth wasn’t the only one who got a second chance.

               Once Cloud realized this, his joy at being reunited with Sephiroth was tempered by a wide margin. It was far from immediate. He was given an entire month to soak in Sephiroth’s return, to smooth out their edges, to learn what had changed and what never would. They spent their days as close as they spent their nights; one was never out of the sight of the other. There was plenty of joking about them being attached at the hip, to which both dutifully looked put upon and sighed at. Sephiroth learned that if he moved too quickly, spoke in the wrong tone of voice, smirked _just so_ , Cloud would flinch, draw away, his hand twitching toward his sword hand. Cloud learned that though these reactions had become ingrained in him, Sephiroth’s look of guilt immediately afterward was enough to break his heart in measures. Both vowed to do better. These were details, fine wrinkles that they agreed to iron out with however much effort it took. Sephiroth hated seeing the look of fear on Cloud’s face. Cloud couldn’t stand watching Sephiroth pale and look guilty. It was worth however much time and effort it took to fix. They assumed they had all the time in the world.

               They were wrong.

               Once Cloud knew how wrong they were, he told himself he was over exaggerating, that this could be controlled, fought off, tamed. In his heart, he knew he was wrong, and that it was only a matter of time before Sephiroth knew as well.

               Truly, they should have known better. There was no way everything to end so simply, so well for them both. Cloud had learned long ago that he was cursed by his name, that his fate was never to live happily ever after. Something would always go wrong, something would always make him suffer. Zack had laughed at the idea so long ago, but Zack’s death spoke to its truth. He was damned, and this reprieve was always going to end.

               The first time he heard her voice, he stopped stock still in his tracks. His eyes flew wide, the blood drained from his face. A shiver ran down his spine. Sephiroth came closer to him, concerned and afraid, immediately dropping the firewood they had gathered to cup his face.

               _“Now, this is much more comfortable, isn’t it?_ ”

               It didn’t take very long to place Jenova’s voice.

               She didn’t speak again, not then at least, but he was frozen for long enough that Sephiroth called to the others. How could he react when he was watching the hopeful future he had imagined crumble? He should have known she wasn’t finished, that she would never give up so easily. As long as she existed, she would not rest until she had completed her goal. How long had she been in his head, biding her time, lying in wait? How much did she know, what would she use to attempt to turn him from his friends, from Sephiroth? Would it work? Could she be fought off? Where even _was_ the rest of her body? Could she be destroyed, or was her presence in his very cells enough to sustain her, such that he would never be free?

               He finally came around when Tifa ran out of patience and slapped him. He blinked, eyes refocusing on the entirety of AVALANCHE circled around him, each member wearing a different expression of concern.

               “What was that for?” he asked, rubbing at his cheek.

               “’What was that for?’ Are you kidding me, Cloud?” Tifa snapped, voice high in worry.

               “No?” he said, settling on his strategy.

               “What do you mean, no?” she asked.

               “I mean I don’t know why you slapped me? When did you even get here?” he said. Everyone around him exchanged looks. Eyes finally settled on Sephiroth.

               “It’s been a while since you blacked out,” Tifa said, tone even, as she stared Sephiroth down. To his credit, Sephiroth didn’t look the least bit cowed.

               “It wasn’t me,” he explained. “I wouldn’t even know how to do that to him now, even if I wanted to.”

               “Sure,” she bit, taking Cloud’s hand and tugging him closer. He followed her, but took her hand in both of his.

               “Tifa, I trust him. Whatever happened, it wasn’t his fault,” he said.

               “How can you say that? After everything that he’s done?” she whispered, tone harsh.

               “Those things weren’t his fault. It’s probably nothing, Tifa, maybe just some after effects. It’s not impossible, right?” he said, squeezing her hand. She glanced toward Sephiroth.

               “I guess not,” she said, though she sounded beyond hesitant. Despite what she said, she wouldn’t let this go so easily.

               Neither, apparently, would Sephiroth.

               “Was it her?” Sephiroth asked the second they were alone in their tent.

               “Was what who?” Cloud countered, spreading out his bedroll, his back to Sephiroth.

               Sephiroth grabbed his shoulder, turned him to face him where he was crouched, their eyes level.

               “Jenova. Did you hear her today, is that what happened?” Sephiroth asked, voice low, threaded with worry.

               “I already said I don’t remember,” Cloud said with a frown, tone edging on petulant.

               “If you just said that so we wouldn’t worry, it didn’t work,” Sephiroth said. It was all Cloud could do not to flinch.

               “Are you calling me a liar?” Cloud said instead of confessing, despite how the words were all but crawling up his throat.

               Sephiroth straightened, leaned back. “Cloud, I—no, I just—”

               “’Cause it sounds like you’re calling me a liar,” Cloud bit.

               “ _Cloud_ , that’s not what I mean and you know it. We both know you prefer to suffer in silence. That time you broke your foot on a mission, you didn’t tell a soul until I caught you adjusting makeshift splints. You didn’t tell your friends when I was hurting you. If something’s wrong, you can tell me. If it’s Jenova, we can fight her together. You aren’t alone,” Sephiroth said, his tone so urgent that it made Cloud’s heart ache.

               Cloud reached out and took Sephiroth’s hand. “I promise, Sephiroth, I don’t know what happened. If I remember, you’ll be the first to know, okay?”

               “You promise?” he asked.

               “Of course,” Cloud swore.

               Sephiroth leaned forward and caught his lips in an urgent kiss. When he drew away, he let his forehead touch Cloud’s, his eyes slipping shut, brow furrowed.

               “I’ll never let her take you from me. Never.”

               “I know,” Cloud said.

               _Not if you don’t know_ , Cloud thought, guilt making his stomach turn.

               Besides. Maybe it was a fluke.

               Maybe that was wishful thinking.


	4. Chapter 4

               A week passed without incident. The second week was nearing its close and Cloud was beginning to think that maybe he’d imagined Jenova, maybe it was some sort of fluke. His head was full of maybes. Maybe it wasn’t real, maybe it was. Maybe she would tear everything apart. Maybe she was gone. Maybe she threatened everyone and everything he loved. Maybe she was gone and had been since she abandoned Sephiroth. He found himself turning each maybe over again and again in the quiet moments between conversations, in the gaps of solitude. He just couldn’t be sure what had happened and that was almost more disturbing than hearing her in the first place.

               He found he was not quite as good a liar as he thought he was. In those moments spent pondering, more and more often he’d come back to the present under Sephiroth’s watchful gaze, lips just barely thinned into a worried line. When pressed for an answer, he was “concerned about the blackout.” It was enough to buy him time. But even he could see that excuse was starting to wear thin.

               He was up late one night, trying desperately to think of a fresh excuse, watching Sephiroth’s chest rise and fall steadily in sleep. Sephiroth was usually the last to fall asleep, and he slept terribly lightly: a hold-over from the Wutai War. While Sephiroth was the true master of functioning on little sleep, Cloud had learned his fair share of the art while chasing Sephiroth across the globe.

               It was just after he resigned himself to at least attempting to sleep when he heard, _“You know, for the Champion of Gaia, you seem far too fragile. But that’s never quite been true, has it?”_

_Jenova_ , he thought immediately. His pulse skyrocketed. His stomach sank, leaden.

               _“So easy for my son to tear your mind to shreds, and yet— **and yet** , you show surprising resilience. No matter how many pieces he tore you into, it would never be enough. Tell me, how did you do it? Where did you find the strength to all but kill my son?”_

_I’ll never tell you._

_“Oh, of course not. You’re stubborn to a fault—you always have been, if Sephiroth’s memories are even vaguely accurate. You are stubborn and self-sacrificing with a heart as wide as the Lifestream. Oh— **oh**. That’s it, isn’t it? I suppose your answer would be something tooth-rottingly sweet about love, wouldn’t it? Your love for your friends, for the world, for the man you loved and lost, only to find again with your blade at his throat. You’d give anything to protect them, wouldn’t you? To protect them from me.”_

_I don’t know what you think this is, Jenova, but we’re not going to become buddies and start chatting._

_“No, I don’t expect we are. But I have all the time in the world to tease your mind apart and find my answers. Don’t you worry about that. I’m patient. I’ll wait.”_

Cloud had no answer, and luckily, she didn’t seem to expect one. His stomach turned at the implications she left him with, forcing him to pull apart from Sephiroth and bolt for the tent entrance, where he promptly fell to his knees and retched. Sephiroth was only seconds behind, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he knelt at Cloud’s side, one hand pushing Cloud’s hair from his face, the other rubbing his back gently.

               “Cloud?” he asked as the blond sat back on his heels. “Cloud, what’s wrong? What happened?”

               “Water,” he answered and watched as Sephiroth rushed back into their tent for a canteen. Cloud rinsed his mouth and drank as much as he dared with his stomach still churning before he pressed the cool canteen to his forehead. He felt Sephiroth’s hand press to the small of his back.

               “Cloud, what—”

               “Bad dream,” he uttered, closing his eyes. “Very bad dream. Don’t wanna talk about it.”

               “Are you sure? It might help.”

               “Very sure,” Cloud said, lowering the canteen to press his forehead to the crook of Sephiroth’s neck. His arms immediately came up to circle the blond and hold him gently.

               “Come on,” Sephiroth whispered. “Let’s get you back to bed, alright?”

               “’Kay,” Cloud mumbled, exhausted. He began struggling to his feet when Sephiroth, having enough heroics, swept him into his arms. He laid them both down together, holding Cloud tightly to his chest. Sephiroth began humming an old Nibelheim lullaby, one Cloud frequently sang for him when he struggled to fall asleep or came back from testing with Hojo ill and exhausted. It was familiar and comforting enough that he slipped quickly into sleep. He did not notice the way that Sephiroth stayed awake for the next two hours, watching him with distinct worry in his eyes as he smoothed Cloud’s hair over and over, until even his most stubborn spikes began to droop.

 

               _“Think of it, Cloud. You’ve seen all that’s wrong with the world, the hell Shinra has caused. With our combined strength, we could set it all right again.”_

_Jenova, you do nothing but destroy. That’s no way to fix anything._

_“Destroying Shinra may be the only way to fix it. You used to work against Shinra with AVALANCHE, would this really be so different?”_

_That is the stupidest question I’ve ever been asked. Of course it’s different, what planet are you from? … Don’t answer that, you’ve got a real answer and I don’t want to know._

Cloud stirred the pot of stew with more concentration than was strictly needed. Yet, he often didn’t need to keep a conversation running in his head while trying to cook and pretend it wasn’t happening for the sake of his surrounding friends. Sephiroth sat at his side discussing Materia theory with Vincent while Tifa attempted to teach Yuffie how to dry the skins of the rabbits they had caught earlier—unfortunately, Yuffie was starting to turn a familiar shade of green. Barret was cleaning his gun arm while Nanaki lay by the fire, occasionally offering pieces of Bugenhagen’s wisdom to Sephiroth and Vincent’s conversation while Cid smoked and read a battered copy of a book that everyone was convinced was romance, though no one knew for sure: the cover had been lost along the way. No one was paying Cloud much attention, and frankly, that suited him just fine at the moment.

               _“Different or otherwise, you must admit there are people on this planet worthy of being eliminated.”_

_I prefer not to play judge, jury, and executioner, thanks very much_ , he bit, clutching his spoon a little too aggressively.

               _“Why? You’ve done it before. You have quite the body count, Cloud Strife._ ”

               _I kill in defense of myself and others and that’s it. Even you ought to know the difference._

_“Is wiping out Shinra not defense of the planet and all those who live on it?”_

_Jenova, you want to destroy the planet and use its husk as a vessel. Do you really think I’ve forgotten that?_

_“It doesn’t have to be that way. You have that rocket, you brought it into space. It can be replicated, launched again. There are options. Ones that benefit your planet.”_

_You’re talking out of your ass and it’s obvious, Jenova. This conversation is over._

_“Do you think that because you stopped answering it’s over? You have much to learn.”_

Cloud tasted the stew. Finding it lacking, he nudged Sephiroth, who immediately turned to him while finishing his comment toward Vincent, only making eye contact when finished. He raised an eyebrow.

               “Thyme,” Cloud asked, holding his hand out. Sephiroth dug in a backpack while Vincent answered his comment, digging for the pouch of herbs that had, of course, found its way to the bottom of the pack. When he held it out, Cloud mumbled his thanks before returning to his cooking. At the low and distant tone, Sephiroth furrowed his brow, glancing back toward Cloud an extra time to study his face. It wasn’t until Vincent called Sephiroth’s name that he turned back and rejoined the conversation, content that Cloud simply seemed focused on his task. He began adding the herb to the stew in pinches.

               _“Hojo has made you as different from others as Sephiroth has always been. It’s why you feel strong enough to put the entire planet under your care. You protect them, but you owe them nothing. You owed Nibelheim nothing, not after how they treated you as a child. A part of you was glad to watch it burn.”_

“Salt,” Cloud said, nudging Sephiroth in the side again. This time, Sephiroth didn’t look back until he had found the correct pouch and turned to place it into Cloud’s outstretched hand. Cloud didn’t look away from the pot.

               _“You remember how Shinra was no different. Bullied in Nibelheim as an outcast, bullied in Shinra as a weakling. It never mattered how fast you were, how deft you were with your blade, how well you could read your opponent. They only saw when your blocks gave and your strikes bounced off from a simple lack of muscle mass. A rectifiable issue that only needed time that no one seemed willing to give you.”_

               He tasted the broth again. Still not quite right.

               _“Except Sephiroth, of course. Then the bullying came from being the teacher’s pet, the favorite cadet who didn’t deserve the attention from everyone’s idol. It didn’t matter that you never asked for the help, that he simply saw what the others didn’t, the raw potential. How many black eyes did you explain away as ‘training mistakes’ to Sephiroth, hmm? And these people, who attempted to stop you and kill you every step of the way as you did only your best to save the planet. These people, who gunned down Zack, without reason, without just cause.”_

               His grip on the spoon turned white-knuckled.

               _“Zack didn’t deserve what he got. What came to him solely because of Shinra’s machinations. After enduring years of torture without any sense. And then, after taking everything away from you, so much so that you lost your own self, they chased you, fought you, kept on taking and taking and taking. **These** are the people you want to defend?”_

               The soup was good enough.

               He laid a hand on Sephiroth shoulder and stood. “I’m going for a walk,” he said, “I’ll be back before the stew’s done, just make sure it doesn’t boil over?”

               “Of course,” Sephiroth answered, laying his hand over Cloud’s and squeezing it gently. Cloud offered a flicker of a smile before retreating to the tree line.

               _“Be honest with yourself, Cloud. You’ve never mourned a Shinra soldier. You mowed them down without regret. Why do you pretend you’d mind wiping out the rest?”_

She was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

               “ _You think Hojo made you a monstrosity, but Hojo made you **better** and deep down inside you know it. You’re stronger and faster. He called you a failure but he couldn’t be further from the truth. You were his greatest success.”_

               He gave up on his walk and sat beneath a tree, slumping down until he hit the ground. He clutched at his calves, knuckles turning white again, as he pressed his forehead to his knees.

_“In the end, you even surpassed Sephiroth. You were mere seconds away from the killing blow and you know it. You won, Cloud. You are the one the world would bow to, if you only asked. You could eradicate Shinra, the plague that it is upon this planet, single handedly if you only deigned to try. You championed the planet in its time of crisis. They all owe you their thanks. They would give it to you gladly. Sephiroth, for all his strength, had to wrestle his way to godhood. You— **you** , Cloud, all you have to do is accept what they would give you freely.”_

               Cloud lost track of time. He trembled, breath shaking in time as he tried and failed to tune out Jenova. He fought to remember his friends, to remember Sephiroth, but it wasn’t long before even that was twisted from him.

               _“And between the two of you—Cloud, with Sephiroth at your side, there is nothing you could not do.”_

               And, gods help him, she was right. He could picture it in his head, the two of them, side by side, wiping out Shinra. It didn’t deserve any better—she had a point there. His stomach turned at the thought, but if it was in his power to fix a cancer on the planet, wasn’t it his duty to do so? He didn’t need any titles or ranking or _godhood_ , he just wanted the planet to be safe, for every last innocent person, for every one of his friends. Was that really too much to ask for? Was it not enough to fight for?

               “Gods,” Cloud uttered. “Gods, I’m in trouble.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to update, I have no excuse.

               “Cloud?”

               He wasn’t sure how long he had sat like that, pale, huddled, and trembling beneath that tree. It was as dark as it was when he left the campfire, the surroundings only visible by virtue of the mako in his eyes.

               “Cloud?”

               What he did know was that when he started hearing his name called in the distance, he felt frozen in place. His fingers ached from his grip on his shins, his forehead throbbed from how hard it was pressed to his knees. His joints felt stiff and he felt cold, despite the fact that all those enhancements made him all but impervious to the chill of the wind.

               “Shit,” he muttered, finally realizing he must have been gone long enough to cause worry. He stumbled to standing, desperately trying to get feeling back through his limbs. He rubbed his forehead, trying to disperse the undoubtedly bright red mar, scrubbed his hands over his cheeks to try and bring color back to them.

               “Cloud!”

               He very firmly put aside Jenova’s whispering and even more carefully set aside his thoughts on the matter. It was a problem for another time.

               “Cloud? … where could he have gone?” Cloud heard in a baritone that was distinctly Sephiroth’s. Taking a deep breath, Cloud straightened himself and his clothes, deciding it would have to be good enough.

               “Sephiroth!” Cloud called, catching the glint of moonlight off Sephiroth’s hair in the distance. He watched it swirl around the man as he turned to meet Cloud’s eye.

               “There you are,” Sephiroth said, and his relief was palpable. Cloud jogged toward him until he was pulled roughly into a hug. “Don’t disappear on me like that.”

               Cloud offered what he hoped was a light laugh, returning the embrace.

               “I guess I lost track of how long I was out here,” he said. As they pulled away, Sephiroth looked over Cloud’s face, eyes narrowing just barely. Cloud’s eyebrows lifted in question as the moment stretched and Sephiroth shook his head, taking Cloud’s hand and starting back toward camp.

               The two walked in silence; they were both perfectly comfortable without chattering, but Cloud couldn’t think of a conversation even if he wanted to. His head was too busy spinning in circles, trying to decide if Jenova really did have a point, if agreeing with her and following through was the right thing to do, or if this was becoming dangerous and Cloud truly ought to bring it up with Sephiroth. Despite thinking himself around in endless circles, he reached no conclusion by the time they reached the campfire where the rest of his team was seated with bowls of soup and talking. They all looked up in synch as Sephiroth and Cloud dropped hands and stepped into the firelight.

               “There you are,” Tifa said brightly, her though she appeared less worried than Sephiroth had been. “Sorry we didn’t wait, it looked like it was going to overcook and—”

               Cloud waved her off, saying, “Nothing to apologize for.” He walked ahead of Sephiroth who watched his back carefully, concerned and considering, as he filled two bowls. When he turned and held one out for Sephiroth, the man came forward and took it, thanking him quietly. The two sat side by side, arms pressed together in their nearness, each watching quietly as the conversation resumed. Yuffie and Cid were animated, with at least a dozen near-spills between them, as they argued over which was the better weapon: melee or materia. Occasionally others chimed in, but the two were raucous enough that the rest were content to watch and laugh at their antics.

               No one, not even Sephiroth, questioned him throughout the night. In their tent, Sephiroth held Cloud closer than normal and watched him with concern long after the blond had fallen asleep. He did not need to know that.

 

               Cloud was always quiet while they travelled regardless of their mode of transportation. On the airship, he stood to the side with his arms over his chest, watching the rest talk. In the submarine, he sat as far from the controls as there was room for. In the Bronco, he sat perched on the ledge where cockpit met the back of the plane, a spot only he could manage to sit without falling out of the plane. On chocobos, he led the group, always a few yards ahead of the rest. He always spoke when spoken to, but he had long since made it clear that, while travelling, he preferred to be left alone. If, while they walked back toward Midgar, he did nothing but hold hands with Sephiroth and follow the group, it raised no alarms.

               If his face was kept carefully blank, well, he had plenty of practice listening to Sephiroth in his head without any outward sign. Why would listening to Jenova be any different?

               _“They’re a plague on your planet, Cloud. They deserved to be taken down, burnt to ash and crushed by Meteor. In your gut, when your morals cloud your thoughts less, you know that I’m right. They corrupted the world with their politics, polluted it with their machines, tyrannized the people—what **didn’t** they try to do to harm the Planet?”_

Cloud could only wish that walking took more of his thought. He would give an arm for _anything_ that was distracting.

 

               Sometimes, Cloud and Sephiroth talked in hushed voices late into the night. They recalled their distant past together—or rather, Sephiroth retold stories of their relationship that Cloud tried, with mixed success, to remember fully. Some days they talked about the future, what they wanted to do once AVALANCHE was convinced they were safe. Some nights there was no conversation, only muttered endearments and exchanges of affections. In many more nights, they didn’t speak at all, but instead held each other close, fingers stroking over cheekbones, down arms, through hair.

               These silent nights were coming more frequently now.

               _“Shinra has done nothing but hurt. Not only the world, but you and yours especially. Think of your time in the labs, of Nanaki and Aeris and Vincent’s time in the labs. Under the knife, in those mako tubes, tied down and strung up with veins full of needles. Think of the slime hole that was under the plate, where Tifa, Barret, and Aeris had to live all those years. That Shinra made it so hellish on purpose, we all know they did. Think of Barret’s lost town, Cid’s lost dream, Yuffie’s lost empire. All they’ve done is take and take and take and each member of your group has lived through hell for it. You know they deserve to pay for it.”_

After all, Cloud was a little too distracted for conversation.

              

               Despite what the blond may have thought, he was not quite as slick as he thought he was. He successfully pulled the wool over the eyes of the rest of AVALANCHE, that was true. But Sephiroth, as per usual, was another story. He had years of being with the young Strife to learn his mannerisms, his habits and expressions. They had certainly changed since that time, but the changes did not result in _new_ mannerisms. Instead, there was the assimilation of Zack’s own quirks to Cloud’s own, resulting in a combination that was still extremely familiar and readable to Sephiroth. Even if he hadn’t had such a leg up in reading the blond, he had over a month to learn him over again, and that was plenty of time to solidify the information he needed to make Cloud an open book. After all, he didn’t make General on strength alone. He ended the Wutai War in years less than anticipated by having a keen eye, for noticing patterns and differences, as well as weaknesses and strengths.

               He knew very well that something was wrong with Cloud.

               He would tune out, his eyes getting glassy and his coordination slipping. His steps turned from a march to a shuffle. His grip on Sephiroth’s hand slackened. He failed to follow conversation, often needing people to repeat themselves. At times it took multiple emphatic calls of his name to bring him back to present. Something was off. Something was taking his attention from the moment, from what was around him.

               Sephiroth knew that Cloud said it was nothing. He even insisted it couldn’t be Jenova. When pressed on his habit of being self-sacrificing, he maintained his position. And as much as Sephiroth wanted to have faith in him, it had only become increasingly clear that he had been lying.

               Sephiroth would not lightly make such an accusation, certainly not toward one he trusted and loved so dearly, but, despite insistence to the contrary, he was certain the blond was taking on the world by himself again. Whatever it was that was happening, Cloud was sure he could handle it by himself, that he didn’t need to burden anyone else (as if he could ever be a burden), that the situation was under control.

               It wasn’t.

               And it was getting worse.

               While Sephiroth was a patient man, there was only so long even he could wait.

               “Cloud?” Sephiroth called, ducking down to enter their tent.

               The blond glanced over his shoulder with a smile before returning to laying out their bedrolls.

               “Seph, hey,” he said, tone warm as he smoothed the rolls flat.

               Sephiroth reached out and grabbed his upper arm, halting the movement.

               “Can I talk to you about something?” he asked. Cloud froze, so briefly that if he were any other man he would have missed it, before turning with wide, curious eyes.

               “Sure,” he said, sitting cross-legged on his bedroll as Sephiroth moved to mirror him.

               “You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?” Sephiroth said, voice low, unsure of how to approach the subject. He watched as Cloud blinked before a small smile spread across his face.

               “Of course I do,” he said, reaching out and taking one of Sephiroth’s gloved hands. “What’s this about?”

               The look Sephiroth gave him bordered on sad.

               “You know what,” Sephiroth said. Cloud raised an eyebrow and waited before shaking his head slowly.

               “I really don’t. What’s going on?” he asked, thumb stroking over his hand. Sephiroth looked down at their hands before gently cradling Cloud’s in his. He was never particularly tactful, as Zack liked to remind him, and this was a conversation that needed tact. If the butterflies in his stomach were anything to go by, he was afraid of how this conversation would go. Not that he would ever admit that.

               “Hey, Seph, it’s ok. Talk to me,” Cloud insisted as the silence stretched, watching with Sephiroth as the man turn his hand over, back and forth, fingers almost dancing against his skin as he stalled.

               “You’ve been… distant, lately,” Sephiroth said, voice low. “You get distracted, your attention drawn away like you hear or see something that isn’t there. I know you, Cloud, I know how you are when something’s wrong with you. You’ve always tried to hide it. But I… I want to help, if I can. And I have some experience with hearing things that aren’t there.”

               He looked up at Cloud from beneath his lashes to see his lover frozen. He looked pale, his hand stiff between Sephiroth’s. He tightened his grip on Cloud’s hand in earnest.

               “Whatever’s happening, we can handle it, Cloud. But you have to tell me what’s wrong first,” he said, just barely leaning forward.

               It was like Cloud melted. The stiffness disappeared and he seemed to slump, his eyes turning down to their hands. When he spoke, it was so low that someone unenhanced would have missed it.

               “I didn’t want this to become a problem,” he muttered. Sephiroth took his hand between just one of his and used the other to reach out and stroke Cloud’s cheekbone, who almost imperceptibly leaned into it.

               “There’s no problem that can’t be fixed,” he whispered in response.

               When Cloud finally turned his eyes up to meet Sephiroth’s again, they were lit with fear.

               “I don’t think this one can,” Cloud uttered.

               Sephiroth squeezed his hand and cupped his cheek, Cloud visibly turning into the touch this time.

               “We can’t know until we try,” he said.

               He could see as Cloud screwed up his courage. This was obviously a conversation he didn’t want to have but finally yielded regardless. That didn’t change his reluctance.

               “It’s Jenova,” he whispered, unable to maintain eye contact.

               Sephiroth’s hand tightened around Cloud’s, partially in comfort, partially out of anger. When Cloud looked up, he could see what he could only describe as indignation in Sephiroth’s eyes, as if he was offended Jenova had the _gall_ to speak to Cloud.

               After taking a moment to compose himself, Sephiroth asked, “What has she been telling you?”

               “To destroy Shinra,” he said, eyes dipping back down. “That they deserve if for all they’ve done. That she doesn’t need to use the planet anymore, she could use a rocket like Cid’s. She doesn’t want to destroy everything, just Shinra, and I…” Cloud paused to take a few deep breaths, looking paler and paler as he spoke. “I’ve been having a hard time disagreeing.”

               Sephiroth dropped his hand, instead reaching out to cup Cloud’s face between his palms, tilting it up so the blond had to meet his gaze.

               “She’s lying to you, Cloud,” he said firmly. “She’d have you destroy Shinra and then by the time it was done, convinced you to destroy just one more thing, then just another, all seemingly deserving, until the next thing you know Meteor is hanging in the sky again. She knows how to twist any emotion inside of you until you reach the point where you’re so far gone she doesn’t need your consent anymore. This is exactly what she did to me, Cloud, don’t let her do it to you too.”

               “I know, I _know_ ,” he said, sounding more frustrated than Sephiroth had heard him in years. “I just—once she starts talking, reminding me of everything they’ve done—”

               “It sounds tempting, even reasonable,” Sephiroth said quietly, a knowing look in his eyes. “It always does, at first.”

               The frustration melted into hurt melted into fear. Cloud’s chest felt tight, like the air was hard to pull in. His eyes stung with unshed tears as he met his lover’s eyes.

               “I’m afraid, Sephiroth,” Cloud confided, barely audible. “I’m so afraid I’ll lose myself.”

               Before either could blink, Sephiroth reached out and pulled Cloud to him, his hand cradling the blonde’s head as he ducked his head into Sephiroth’s shoulder, hands coming up to fist in his jacket.

               “I know, Cloud,” Sephiroth whispered. “I know.”

               The two strained closer together as Cloud’s breath became jagged, whether with tears or fear, Sephiroth couldn’t say. He waited, holding Cloud close until his breath smoothed again. He pulled back just far enough to cup Cloud’s face between his palms again.

               “Next time it happens, come to me,” he said, voice still low, private. “She’ll make her arguments and I’ll make mine. I won’t let you forget what she is.”

               He had barely finished when Cloud flung his arms around his neck, face buried in his neck once more.

               “Thank you,” Cloud whispered. “Thank you.”


	6. Chapter 6

               Perhaps unsurprisingly, their conversation made very little difference. Cloud, too used to coping on his own, too wrapped up in Jenova’s words, didn’t even think to seek out Sephiroth’s help. Sephiroth, having learned Cloud’s behavior patterns, knew exactly what was happening, but seemed powerless to stop it. They couldn’t let the others know what was happening—they were on thin ice as it stood, it would be a mistake to give them proof that they were, in fact, a possible threat. He couldn’t pull Cloud aside as they were walking, couldn’t ask the others to continue on without them and that they would catch up. That would only invite further questions they couldn’t answer when they met up again. Their lack of privacy was detrimental to Sephiroth’s attempts to help him. The best they could manage was pouring over what happened during the day when they were back in their tent. But by then the threat had passed, he had remembered just what Jenova was and what she was attempting, and had no intention of leaving. All they could think to do was preach to the choir.

               It took longer than he was proud of for Sephiroth to find a workable solution. He couldn’t argue with Jenova for Cloud, couldn’t fight that stream of poison actively. What he could do was take Cloud’s attention away from her words. Sephiroth kept a close eye on him, watching for the moment when his eyes would turn glassy, his steps turn to stumbles, his mind pulling away from the present. He couldn’t do much, but he could pull Cloud away. He started conversations, despite having nothing to say, and generally being a poor conversationalist. This was particularly difficult because both were more comfortable in silence, felt little need for unnecessary words. Sephiroth did his best to remember Zack, try to use conversational maneuvers to keep the talk flowing that Zack had once used on him. It worked out poorly, as it were; understanding the mechanics of how Zack kept conversations running did not provide inspiration for actual words. They often lapsed into discussing mundane, inane topics like the weather, when lunch was, what chores they would have to do at camp that night.

               Failing that, Sephiroth relied on the physical. They held hands, Sephiroth giving gentle squeezes when Cloud began to drift off. A small pinch on the back of Cloud’s arm usually shocked him out of it, though it earned Sephiroth a glare (which he found terribly endearing). A hand on the shoulder in conversation, arms and hands bumping from walking too closely, a gentle nudge to the ribs. It was difficult to keep this going over extended periods of time, but Sephiroth still managed to catch Cloud before he got too wrapped into listening to Jenova.

               What they failed to consider was that AVALANCHE would eventually catch on. In fairness, they kept the group in the dark longer than should have actually been expected. Having failed to even consider the possibility, it still came a shock when they were cornered.

               As camp was being set up one night, Tifa pulled the two aside, out of the clearing and into the forest for privacy.

               “Okay, spill,” she said, arms folded over her chest. Sephiroth and Cloud looked at each other before turning back to her.

               “Spill what?” Cloud asked, his voice kept carefully curious and confused. The flat look on Tifa’s face got worse when she raised an eyebrow.

               “You know damn well what,” she said. “You two have been acting weird for weeks now.”

               “How do you mean?” Sephiroth asked. Luckily, he was required to act far less, his usual stony expression working in his favor now.

               “You turned into a bunch of chatterboxes,” she said, looking between them as if her gaze alone could force them to answer. “I Cloud, you were never one to fill an empty silence unless you had something to say. And, Sephiroth, I don’t know you as well, but I’ve still spent months with you, and you’re even quieter than Cloud is. So, spill it, what’s going on?”

               Cloud raised an eyebrow to match hers.

               “Maybe I just like to hear his voice,” he said, as if it was obvious and she was inconsiderate for not thinking of it herself. She pursed her lips in response.

               “And you didn’t a month ago? Besides it’s not like you _really_ went that long without hearing him, with the way he—oh. Oh, shit, Cloud, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

               He waved her away, saying, “I know you didn’t. It’s not your fault he was in my head so much.”

               “I just—you know what I’m saying. You’re being weird, and I just want to make sure that you’re okay,” she said, her arms falling to her sides.

               Cloud walked forward and put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing lightly.

               “Nothing’s wrong, Tifa,” he insisted. “Sometimes we just want to talk.”

               From the look she was giving him, Cloud could tell plenty well that Tifa wasn’t convinced. She had, however, put her foot in her mouth and didn’t feel she could press the issue. She sighed and nodded. Cloud smiled and, one hand still on her shoulder, leading the way back to the camp.

               “Come on, we don’t want Yuffie to try to cook and burn everything again,” he said. It was enough to earn a light laugh out of her, and the moment passed.

               She didn’t see the relieved look the two exchanged behind her back.

 

               It was naïve of them to not discuss the matter later. It should have been obvious that they wouldn’t be let off the hook that easily, that they have come up with a better excuse, some sort of plan to weasel their way out of trouble. But, they were human, and made mistakes. In their relief, it simply didn’t occur to either that Tifa wouldn’t let the matter stay dropped.

               Sephiroth was the true master of reading Cloud, he always was and always would be. But Tifa easily came in second place; she had known Cloud as a child, had a year of travelling with him to learn his patterns and behaviors, what different expressions meant, that a lack of one meant just as much. And now, alerted to their strange behavior, it was becoming clearer and clearer that they hadn’t been honest. Sephiroth was, and probably always would be, a mystery to her. He seemed to only express slightly different versions of stoic, and while it was obvious Cloud knew those differences and what each one meant, Tifa just didn’t have the experience to do the same. But she didn’t need to read both of them to see the problem.

               Tifa had, after all, been the first to notice when Sephiroth had been speaking to Cloud, pulling his attention away. It was eerie to watch that expression back on his face; she thought it had died with Zack’s persona in Mideel. She kept waiting for him to drop to his knees and hold his head, but it never quite came to that. The glassy look in his eyes would slowly grow, his coordination would start to slip, and then Sephiroth intervened, every single time without fail. She noticed the sly pinches, the little bumps and nudges, the too emphatic call of Cloud’s name to pull him back before keeping him present with conversation.

               Cloud was hearing things and Sephiroth wasn’t the one calling.

               It was obvious what the issue was. There weren’t really any other options, after all.

               This time, she pulled Cloud off by himself. She noticed the way he shared an apprehensive look with Sephiroth, for just a moment, before agreeing to come with her. It was clear Sephiroth knew, that he was trying to help, but he was also helping Cloud keep this a secret. They had to have a reason for the secrecy, and Tifa was willing to hear their case. But she knew Cloud, knew how to read him, could pull the truth from him far more easily than she could Sephiroth. As much as it sat sour in her stomach to think that way, he was weaker on his own.

               When they got far enough from the group, she stopped, turned to face him. His face was politely curious, but she could see the nerves in the lines of his shoulders, the hands that were stiff from purposefully keeping them from turning to fists.

               “Cloud,” she started, tone calm and careful, as if she was approaching a cornered animal. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to answer honestly. Will you promise me that you’ll do that?”

               It was a cheap shot, a dirty trick. Cloud’s word was his bond, it always had been. Promises were iron clad agreements to the blond, and they both knew damn well that he wouldn’t go back on his word. They both also knew that if he refused to promise, it was as good as admitting that he had something to hide.

               His shoulders tensed just a little higher. His fingers twitched toward the nervous fist he longed to make. She felt bad for doing this to him. Mostly. But he had earned a few uncomfortable moment for trying to hide something this big from her in the first place.

               “Sure,” he said. He was aiming for a technicality. She should have seen that coming.

               “Say it,” she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. He let out a sigh that shook at the edges.

               “I promise to tell you the truth,” he grumbled, looking down at her feet instead of her eyes. He knew he was going to have to tell her, it was clearly just a matter of the how. She knew him, knew he was trying to think of the gentlest way to break it to her, how to worry her the least, how to not hurt her feelings for hiding it.

               “How long have you been hearing Jenova?”

               _That_ was not on the list of things he had been expecting.

               His eyes shot up to hers in surprise, mouth just barely dropping open. She let him have his moment to collect himself. When it grew longer than a moment, she raised an eyebrow, and he fumbled with collecting himself.

               “How did you—how long—”

               “Answer the question, Cloud.”

               He straightened himself. His gaze dropped back to her boots.

               “It started about a month after Sephiroth came back,” he said, shamed and quiet.

               “Oh _Cloud_ ,” she said, dropping her arms, coming toward him to hold his hands, squeezing them lightly. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

               He looked to the side, still avoiding her eyes, and shrugged.

               “You said Sephiroth and I had to prove we were safe,” he mumbled.

               “And you were afraid we would stop trusting you,” she finished, sounding disappointed; whether it was with herself or Cloud, she wasn’t sure.

               He shrugged again. “It’s not like I don’t understand why.”

               Finally having enough, she took hold of his face between her two palms, making him look at her.

               “Cloud, I never want you to be afraid to tell me anything,” she said.

               “None of you would have wanted to hear it,” he insisted, voice gaining steel, his shoulders now set in determination. “I couldn’t stomach you looking at me with fear again, like I was some Marlboro on the loose. Like I had to monitored, controlled to keep everyone safe from me, safe from myself. The way everyone would turn to whispers when I walked into a room, the nervous glances, the way everyone sat on the edge of their seats, ready to spring into action the second I lost it.”

               Tifa’s eyes widened, her hands dropping to her sides. This—this was not what she had expected. She thought he’d look guilty and promise to do better. She’d accept the apology, forgive him, and help him make some sort of plan that would actually help. She wasn’t ready for the blame. She wasn’t ready for her stomach turning sour, her face growing pale.

               “I knew why, I always understood, so how could I blame you? The only one who could control me was Sephiroth—not you, not the party, not even me. You had reason to be afraid. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t kill me in measures to see it, to have to prove myself time and again, just for Sephiroth to pull the rug from under my feet, to put me back at square one,” he said, voice growing harder and harder as he spoke.

               “Cloud, I—”

               He held his hand up to stop her.

               “Don’t apologize. You won’t mean it, not really, not enough that you would change it if you could,” he said calmly, strangely without bitterness, as if it was to be expected, as if it was his fate to be the monster, someone else’s puppet and never his own man. “But things are different this time. My connection with Sephiroth isn’t the same as my connection to Jenova. I was made to be his, designed to be brought under his will. Jenova’s not the same. She has to be accepted, invited in to do anything more than talk. I won’t accept her, it’s that simple. You won’t have reason to be afraid this time, but you won’t believe that, and we both know it.”

               “Why wouldn’t I?” she said, more to be stubborn, to attempt to live up to her own morals despite the cold weight of fear settling in her stomach.

               He looked at her, sighed and shook his head.

               “Because you already are,” he said, resignation clear in his voice.

               “I’m afraid _for_ you,” she insisted, a technical truth, though she couldn’t get the denial of being afraid _of_ him past her lips. “So why wouldn’t I believe you?”

               He sighed, running hand through his hair, a holdover, a nervous tic from Zack.

               “Because it all relies on Sephiroth’s word, and you don’t trust _him_ ,” he said, looking up at her wearily. “He’s the only one who’s had her take over. He’s the one that knows she can’t force anyone, that he had to accept her, despite how far from proud of that choice he is.”

               He looked at her, and all she could see was a beaten man. Resigned, tired, accepting—no, _knowing_ that these were just the cards fate had dealt him and nothing he could do would change it.

               “You don’t trust him, you never have, and I doubt you ever _will_ ,” he explained, parting his hands helplessly. “And if you can’t trust him, you don’t know that you can trust me.”

               A moment paused, a moment that drew out just barely too long, as Tifa rocked back on her heels as if dealt a blow.

               Because, damn it, damn it all to the hells, he was _right_.

               “See?” he said, a wry smile on his lips.

               “No, Cloud, I—”

               “No, Tifa. Save it. I’ve come to terms with your fear, but I won’t stomach your lies,” he said, finally in motion, moving to walk past her. “You’re only saying them so you can say you tried, so you’ll sleep better at night, anyway.”

               Their shoulders bumped as he walked around her, headed back to the campsite. Tifa stood there, head down, hands in fists, for longer than she cared to know. Her arms trembled, she held her fists so tight.

               After all these years, after all this time, she really wasn’t any better for him that the little girl who stood idly by, watching the other children throw words and stones and punches. She hadn’t changed at all.


	7. Chapter 7

               Sephiroth’s eyes tracked Cloud as he came back to the campfire. The rest paid little attention, already deep in conversation. There were a few lazy waves, brief greetings, heads nodded as he rejoined them; he met each in turn. When he sat next to Sephiroth, all the man did was raise an eyebrow. Cloud shook his head before leaning forward to grab a plate and what he assumed to be a non-poisonous member of the local wildlife from the fire. Sephiroth let the topic drop, though neither of the two joined the conversation; as this wasn’t a particularly rare occurrence, not another member of the team noticed. Tifa came back later, longer than Cloud had expected. Her eyes were downcast, her face pale, the tiny splotches of red near her eyes telling him that she had cried and done her best to cover it—he only noticed because he knew to look. They made eye contact when she sat down, but she looked away immediately. Cloud refused to feel guilty and ignored the way Sephiroth’s eyes turned back to him in question. Nanaki commented that Tifa looked pale, that she wasn’t eating, asked if she was okay. She answered readily, having prepared her answer before returning: it was that time of the month. It was the quickest way to drop the conversation, and it worked like a charm.

               Sephiroth, Cloud, and Tifa sat in silence only until it was a reasonable time for them to turn in. Tifa left first, saying she needed to lie down. Sephiroth followed soon after, asking Cloud for help pitching their tent, as if he hadn’t done it himself dozens of times. Still, no one asked any questions.

               Not until Sephiroth had Cloud alone in the privacy of their tent.

               “Well?” he asked the second the blond ducked inside.

               “She knows,” he said, finally dropping the façade. He looked at Sephiroth with eyes full of hurt, confusion, fear. “She figured it out on her own.”

               “And she found that so upsetting it moved her to tears?” Sephiroth asked, not bothering to undress, prepare for bed, pretend that anything but this needed his full attention.

               Cloud glanced to the side, a hint of pink staining his cheeks.

               “No, I—I wasn’t exactly… kind to her,” he said, the guilt finally catching up with him. “I just—she backed me into a corner, tried to make me seem like the bad guy for not talking to her, as if there was another option. I lashed out. I shouldn’t have.”

               “Cloud,” Sephiroth said, tone gentle as he reached out, taking his hand between his palms. “Anyone would if pressed hard enough.”

                Cloud sighed, looking down at their hands, lacing his finger through Sephiroth’s carefully.

               “What are we gonna do about this? She won’t keep quiet forever,” he muttered, finally risking glancing up at Sephiroth. The man raised his hand, stroking over Cloud’s cheek.

               “I’ve been considering it for a while now,” he said carefully, watching Cloud’s face for a reaction. “It might be in our best interest to separate from AVALANCHE.”

               “Sephiroth,” he said, tone a light reprimand. “That’s the quickest way to make us look guilty.”

               “I’m aware,” he answered. “But the question of losing their trust has now become a when, not an if. It’s only a matter of time before Tifa tells one of them, and once she tells one, they’ll all know. It might be best to put as many miles between us and them as possible.”

               Cloud turned his eyes back to their hands, chewing his lip in thought. Unable to come to a conclusion, Sephiroth continued.

               “We have two options. One, we stay. Tifa will break at one point, confide in another, likely Barret. Barret was one of the last to be convinced to give us this grace period in the first place. He’ll likely storm into our tent as soon as he knows, regardless of Tifa’s opinion on the matter. We will likely lose the privacy of our tent. There’s a high chance they’ll assign guards to keep an eye on us at all times. We might eventually wear them down, behave long enough that they finally decide to trust us. But for that to happen in any reasonable amount of time would require immaculate behavior. They’ll notice every time your attention wanders once they know to look for it. I won’t be allowed to help you through it; they already consider me at risk of a relapse, they won’t risk allowing us to speak while either show signs of Jenova’s influence, no matter how small. That leaves you stranded in the care of people likely to fear you and condemn you for something you can’t control—it will only make matters worse. It will give Jenova more ammunition, another group of people it will seem reasonable to turn against, after all, they will have turned against you first.”

               Cloud dropped his forehead into the palm of his free hand, eyes screwed shut, mouth pressed into a firm line. The barest tremble set into his fingers. He didn’t think he could bear to lose their trust all over again. He couldn’t watch himself become irredeemable.

               “The second option?” he uttered in a voice that shook at the edges.

               “We leave,” Sephiroth said. “They will likely pursue us, but being enhanced, we can bear a pace far quicker than they can tolerate. It would be difficult—little time for food that can’t be eaten while travelling, little sleep, no time to ourselves. But it’s possible. We outrun them just long enough to lose them, find some isolated place to stay. We take as much time as necessary to shut her out. Try to find the source of it, if we can. She must have survived your attacks in some manner with enough cells left to broadcast to you from. I know I fell into the reactor core in Nibelheim holding her head—if she found a work around for me, it’s likely she survived the fall as well. It’s a place to start. Once we lose AVALANCHE, we can take our time hunting her down. We’ll be able to break every time you need it to help you through her whisperings. It may take a while for us to lose them, but there are potential benefits and the possibility of putting an end to it all.”

               Cloud’s hand shifted, from his forehead in his palm to pinching the bridge of his nose.

               “I want to trust them,” Cloud uttered, pained. “I want to trust them so badly.”

               Gently, Sephiroth reached up and pulled Cloud’s hand from his face, cradling the blond’s hands between his own.

               “I know, Cloud,” Sephiroth whispered. “I know. But you need to put that aside and consider what is best for _you_ —in the end, if they truly care for you, they’ll understand and forgive you for doing what needed to be done.”

               “You’re right,” Cloud breathed. “Godsdammit, you’re right. When do we leave?”

               “As soon as possible,” Sephiroth answered. “The less time we give Tifa to confide in Barret, the better. She likely won’t consider that we would leave immediately either.”

               Cloud pulled in a deep breath before nodding, squaring his shoulders.

               “Tonight then?” he said.

               “Tonight,” Sephiroth agreed.

 

               They had stop regularly keeping a night watch long ago. The threat of Sephiroth suddenly attacking while they were asleep had been removed, and when they were in the wilderness, there was little threat from anything other than the local monsters.

               Cloud had never been so glad they kicked that habit.

               They had waited until they were certain everyone was gone, Cloud going out for a “walk” to be sure no one was still at the fire. He had caught Vincent on his way to his tent, the two sharing nothing but a nod of recognition. The blond watched him duck into his tent, sitting at the fire to be sure he had settled to sleep.

               They had planned in whispers, working out the necessary logistics. It helped immensely that both had led extended combat missions in the wilderness before; each knew exactly what was necessary, what was a luxury, what wasn’t worth the weight in their packs. They had gathered the few rations of portable food they had between them: protein bars, bags of dried fruit and nuts, apples heavily bruised from days in their packs. They packed clothes, bars of soap, toothbrushes—anything they couldn’t live without, either because it was a true necessity, or because it was light enough to justify bringing it despite not being truly necessary for survival, in the case of items like toothbrushes. They agreed quickly that bringing the tent was out of the question—it was unnecessary, it was heavy, it would make too much noise to pack.

               It was later than they had wanted to leave, nearing three in the morning before they had crept away from the campsite. They had hoped to have more time to put as much distance as possible between them and AVALANCHE. It didn’t help their distance that they had to leave slowly, quietly, carefully hiding their footprints and passage as much as possible. It would have been predictable to head toward the closest town. It would be nearly as predictable to head directly opposite to the town to lose them in the wilderness. They settled for striking out due north, with the nearest town being to the northeast. Neither was fond of the idea, but the fact of the matter was that they could survive in colder climates than the rest of the party. They needed as many elements on their side as possible, and if they had to resort to freezing AVALANCHE out, they would do what they must.

               As soon as they were a reasonable distance from the campsite, they set off at a brisk run. They left the group midway between Junon and Fort Condor. They would travel directly north, aiming for as close to Kalm as they could manage. If they could make it to the shores outside Midgar, they hoped to use the city’s ruins to fasten some sort of raft that would allow them to island hop to the Northern Continent. They would have to stay near the shore to pass the mountains between Bone Village and Icicle Inn and cross the valley, but they were sure they could settle in the mountain range outside of Icicle. It was a risk, staying near civilization. It wouldn’t be hard to find them through the locals by description alone—neither of the two particularly blended into a crowd. But they would need supplies, access to food, as they feared the difficulty of hunting in the frozen mountains would prove too difficult to be reliable. They would need simple supplies—toiletries, soaps, a lot of shampoo and conditioner in Sephiroth’s case (once they had access to the luxury). They were relatively sure they could find a hospitable cave, but that ran the risk of disturbing wildlife that might have also taken to the caves for shelter. Sephiroth insisted there was an outpost in those mountains, though it would be difficult to find and likely in horrible disrepair. If they could locate it, it would be a simple, if tiring, task to buy supplies in Icicle to make the outpost livable, maybe even comfortable. From there it would, hopefully, be easy enough to learn how to shut out Jenova. If not, they were already in position to begin the search for Jenova’s remnants, with their nearness to the Northern Crater.

               This plan extended over the long term. It would likely be months before they reached Icicle, especially if they had to go the whole way on foot. It was perfectly likely that they would be caught before they reached their goal. For all they knew, they might have solved the Jenova issue before so much as reaching Kalm. Cloud had considered tossing his PHS—it was unlikely, but possible to track them through it. There was no GPS inside the device (they had checked to be sure), but locating its signal, especially in as remote a place as they were headed, could give them away. He decided to keep it, intending to let the others know when they were removed, but safe. That they were well, had a plan, would solve the matter on their own. He wasn’t opposed, rather hoped in fact, that they would all be able to reunite once Jenova was silenced. There would be hell to pay for running off on their own, but sometimes it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Cloud was certain that AVALANCHE would forgive them in time.

               Sephiroth couldn’t much care one way or another. They were Cloud’s friends, they made him happy, and he had no intentions nor rights to keep Cloud from anything that would bring him joy. But they were an unnecessary factor, a part of the list of luxuries they had compiled. His primary concern was Cloud’s safety and that alone. That being said, it was almost a relief, if not exciting, to have a mission again. He had lived all his life living with missions, goals, even if they had always been set by others. He found he enjoyed using the skills he had learned as the General, especially now that they were being used toward his own end. He had no illusions that their task was easy, or that things would go to plan. But it loosened a knot he didn’t realize had formed in their months of aimless wandering to finally have a cause, something to achieve again. And it would be all the sweeter to not only help his lover, but exact his own revenge against Jenova for all the things she had used him to do. They had a score to settle, and he was not one forgive and forget.

 

               “Shit,” Tifa said. It was all she could think to say. She repeated herself over and over again, each repetition growing in regret, self-admonition, fear. She couldn’t believe she didn’t see it coming. How _stupid_ was she?

               “Tifa?” Yuffie called, passing by the tents and overhearing her uncharacteristic swearing. “Tifa, what is it? Did they forget to put clothes on last night or something?” She came to Tifa’s side, where the brunette was holding Cloud and Sephiroth’s tent open.

               All that was left were a few scattered supplies, and a note on the floor. Tifa just stood in place, swearing under her breath absently, her eyes distant as her mind raced. Yuffie ducked into the tent and picked up the note, exiting before reading it aloud.

               “’I’m sorry. You know I didn’t have a choice. We’ll handle it, I promise.’ Tifa?” Yuffie said, looking at the woman who finally met her gaze. “Do you get this?”

               Tifa all but snatched the note away from Yuffie, reading it quickly.

               “Oh, Cloud,” she whispered, sounding defeated, her shoulders slumped.

               “What is it?” Yuffie asked, putting a hand on Tifa’s shoulder and looking up at her. “What happened?”

               “Shit,” Tifa said again, turning without acknowledging Yuffie had so much as spoken, marching back to the campsite, her mind going a mile a minute. “Guys, we have a problem,” she called.

               “Damn right we do,” Barret said, the last to come out of his tent. “It’s too early for yelling.”

               “ _Guys_ ,” she insisted, voice higher this time, a note of panic edging into her tone. It was enough to gather everyone to the remnants of their fire.

               “Would you just tell us what’s going on?” Yuffie asked, finally out of patience.

               Tifa took a deep breath, staring down at the note in her hands.

               “Cloud and Sephiroth left,” she said, still refusing to look up.

               “The hell do you mean, they left?” Cid asked, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

               “I mean they’ve left us and are probably running as fast as they can to put as much distance between us as possible,” she said.

               The others exchanged looks. Tifa refused to look up from the note.

               “Tifa, you’re not making any sense. Are you sure they didn’t just head out early for supplies or something?” Barret asked, still yawning, not yet properly alarmed.

               “Cloud—he’s, I mean—,” Tifa started, fumbling for words. By this point, she had the full attention of the rest of the group. Her hands shook, the note trembling in time. “He’s been distant, wouldn’t pay attention, got that look on his face that he always had when Sephiroth talked to him, and—and—Sephiroth was trying to help, was trying to keep his attention, it’s why they haven’t shut up in like a week now, and—”

               “Tifa, slow down,” Nanaki urged, fighting to keep his own alarm from his tone.

               Tifa just barreled through the remark.

               “I asked him about it last night, he told me it’s true, he said he didn’t say anything because we’d stop trusting him, would be afraid of him, and—I was—I _am_ afraid, I couldn’t even deny it—”

               “Tifa,” Vincent said, tone like a whip-crack, sharp and louder than anyone expected. It was enough that she stopped and looked up at him. “Breathe.”

               She nodded, tried to follow the suggestion but her breath kept hitching, shallow and rapid.

               “Close your eyes,” Vincent said, tone deceptively calm. “Count your breaths.”

               Slowly, Tifa came out of her panic.

               She looked up to find everyone looking at her with concern.

               “Try again,” Vincent suggested

 

               “Right,” she said. “He left this morning—last night, I don’t know, they’re not here and if this is anything to go by,” she said, holding the note up, “they won’t be coming back soon.”

               “You still haven’t told us what’s wrong with him,” Yuffie said, all impatience and curiosity.

               “I—he—” she tried, faltered, stopped. She looked down again. “He’s hearing Jenova. The same way he used to hear Sephiroth, the same way Sephiroth used to hear her.”

               Silence passed over the group. She had expected at least one exclamation, some sort of reaction, anything. She looked up to find everyone, even Vincent, looking alarmed.

               “Well, shit,” Cid said as the moment passed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

               “Are you sure?” Nanaki asked.

               “I asked him last night. He admitted to it,” she said, looking back down at the note in her hand to avoid the eyes still staring at her. “He said that it’s not the same as it was with Sephiroth. That she can’t just take control like he could, that he had to let her in for her to do anything but talk.”

               “So why run?” Nanaki asked again.

               “He said that we wouldn’t believe him. Sephiroth’s the only other one that’s heard her before. We’d have to take his word that that’s how it works.”

               “And we don’t trust Sephiroth, so we can’t trust him,” Cid finished around his cigarette. He swore again beneath his breath.

               “So he left. Said they’d take care of it,” Tifa finished lamely, finally dropping the note to her side.

               “Like hell they will,” Barret ground out. “If we couldn’t trust them here, where we could see them, how the hell are we gonna trust them alone, together, nothing but them and Jenova?”

               She shook her head.

               “We need to find them,” Nanaki said. “As quickly as possible.”

               Without another word, he turned for his tent and began packing.

               “As if it wasn’t bad enough chasing Sephiroth all around the world for a year,” Cid said, turning back to his own tent. “Now we’ve got two of them and no idea where they’re headed.”

               “Away from civilization,” Vincent said. “They stand out too much, it would be too easy to follow them by description alone.”

               “So we go the opposite way from the closest town,” Cid answered, kicking the tent’s stake from the ground.

               “No,” Vincent said again, more talkative than he had been in a while. “Too obvious.”

               Cid swore again, kicking the next stake harder than was necessary.

               “Then how the hell do we find them?” he asked.

               Cloud and Sephiroth had a great deal of knowledge and skill between the two of them. As the General and the leader of AVALANCHE, who had tracked the ex-General down, they were more than familiar with surviving in the wilderness and what the best tactical positions would be.

               What they failed to remember was that Vincent, so many years ago, had been a Turk.

               And Turks were not known for their muscle, but for their brains.

               “They could have taken any direction for immediate travel to put distance between us,” he began.

               “So we’re fucked,” Cid interrupted.

               “No,” Vincent said. “They will likely attempt to misdirect us, but will likely go to the Northern Continent in the end.”

               “Why the hell would they go there?” Barret called, yanking the last of his stakes free.

               “They can withstand the cold better than we can,” he said simply. “They can survive there longer and easier, and the Northern Continent is a large area to search. The Northern Crater is also the last known location of any Jenova remnants. They will likely attempt to find her, destroy the tissue, and eliminate the problem permanently.”

               “So, what, we search the whole continent?” Cid asked. “Set up camp in the Northern Crater, wait, and hope they show up?”

               “No,” Vincent said, his patience finally seeming to begin to wear. “We don’t look for them at all.”

               “That seems like a bad way to find them,” Nanaki called.

               “We don’t try to find them. We find and eliminate Jenova ourselves. When they notice she’s gone, they’ll be in touch—I doubt Cloud left his PHS behind.”

               “I didn’t see it in his tent,” Tifa said.

               “Godsdammit all,” Yuffie grumbled. “Cloud’s in for it when we find him, dragging us up to the Crater again. I hate the cold.”

               “We know,” Cid cut in. “You never shut up about it.”

               Yuffie blew a raspberry at the man.

               Barret, having finished packing his tent, laid his hand on Tifa’s shoulder.

               “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll fix this.”

               It was all she could do to nod quietly and pray he was right.


End file.
